


A Permanence of Stone

by moonsuoh



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: ahh rushed, put this on hold for months bc I didn't wanna finish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:15:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27644671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonsuoh/pseuds/moonsuoh
Summary: Prince Tsukishima Kei lives the life his brother refused to accept.
Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei, Tsukishima Akiteru/Udai Tenma, Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	A Permanence of Stone

Tsukishima Kei was ten years old the first time he realized what it meant to be royalty.

Winter had just ended, and, despite the lingering chill in the late-noon air, flowers had begun to poke out of the soft earth around the castle. The squirrels and deer from the surrounding forest were slowly waking up to greet the new season. Jacket, socks, and shoes were discarded on the ground behind where the child sat, almost in pitiful protest of his royal status, as he attempted to sit still enough in the hopes that a butterfly would land on him. The early-spring breeze ran through his messy, out-grown hair, caressing the blonde curls and sending chills down his neck; before he could curse the wind and try again, Tsukishima heard the trotting of horses in the distance, steadily approaching the palace. Drawn to the noise like a curiosity-filled kitten, Tsukishima hurriedly made his way back into the palace and to its front entrance, tracking loose dirt with each step his small, bare feet took. Ignoring the frantic shouts of the maids that noticed the disheveled young prince, he exited out onto the grand front steps of the building and stood slightly behind his father, unnoticed.

One of the royal family’s carriages came to a halt in front of them. The air sat still, and fate held its breath, before the carriage driver came around and opened the bright orange door. A man with a tanned and tired face stepped out first, years of labor unfairly aging him. The man then helped a young boy out of the carriage after him, lifting the child into the air before lightly setting him on his feet. With freckles kissed with a gentleness the Sun seemed to save specially for him, the boy locked eyes with Tsukishima. Fate let its breath go, for better or for worse, and the breeze began to blow again. Something churned within the young prince, and he lost his balance, falling back into a sitting position on the hard cement stairs.

It was only then that the King and Queen turned to notice their son, barefoot with grass and dirt scarcely clinging to his long, pale legs. “Tsukishima Kei!” His mother slightly lifted a part of her dress to allow herself to rush over to her son. “Where are your socks and your shoes? And your jacket- oh, you must be cold!” She ushered him inside despite his complaints, apologizing to the newly arrived guests for the interruption. The prince turned back one last time and caught the gaze of the young boy following him; the boy quickly looked down to the ground, as if the small rocks of the gravel road were the most interesting things in the world. If his mother hadn’t pulled him away, Tsukishima thought, he would continue studying the freckles on the boy’s face forever, scattered in beautiful imperfection like paint on an expensive canvas.

  
  
  


\--

  
  
  


That evening, the two guests were invited to share dinner with the royal family. Tsukishima had been forced to bathe for the second time that day by the palace’s fussy maids, and had been dressed in another stuffy jacket and pair of tight shoes. Sat beside his older brother Tsukishima Akiteru, Kei pushed around the steamed carrots on his chef-prepared plate as their parents conversed with the man who had arrived in the carriage earlier that day. “Prince Tsukishima has recently turned sixteen”, the King referred to the older of the two brothers, “and we will be holding a ball in order to begin our search for someone to accompany the prince once he takes his place upon my throne”.

Tsukishima glanced at his older brother, noticing the stiffness in his shoulders. Something in the air told him to ignore it.

“I understand, Your Highness”, the man began. “I received word of the details of your request prior to my arrival, and have already begun sculpting the piece you wished for. I have transported said progress with me, and simply ask for a room to continue my work so that I may complete it to your liking in time for the celebration.”

“Of course. The Yamaguchi family has served us well for many generations, so I shall make the proper arrangements in order to ensure your comfort and ability to work while you stay in our home. Your son, I assume, is studying your craft beneath you?”

Tsukishima shifted his view to the boy seated in front of him, who had been fidgeting up to this point, seemingly spending the past fifteen minutes choosing from the multiple utensils on either side of the plate on the table in front of him. “Yes, I am currently teaching my son here, Yamaguchi Tadashi, to take over the business eventually”, the man proudly put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. Startled, young Yamaguchi looked up, accidentally meeting the gaze of the blonde in front of him for the second time that day, then quickly shifted his eyes back down to his untouched plate. He looked like he didn’t belong in the palace; it was refreshing.

  
  
  


\--

  
  
  


Later that night, the young Prince tossed and turned in his queen-size bed; he had been brimming with curiosity ever since the guests had arrived. Someone his own age from a completely different life and with experiences nothing like his own was staying somewhere in the palace, and Tsukishima wanted to know everything about him.

Few lights guided Kei down the stairs and across the main room as he slid across the cold tile in his socks, hoping that some time outside would make him sleepy. Before he could reach the side doors of the building, however, Tsukishima heard faint sniffling coming from behind the closed doors of the dining room. Pushing one of the heavy doors open, Tsukishima’s eyes adjusted to the darkness of the unlit room, and focused on the out-of-place chair at the nearest end of the long table. He crouched down, and found young Yamaguchi hidden under the table. His hands lay lightly folded, cupped one over the other, as if he were holding something delicate between them. Yamaguchi quieted, looking up through his eyelashes, wet with tears, to see the young prince watching him in confusion. 

“Are you.. okay?” Tsukishima wasn’t sure what to do; this wasn’t how he’d imagined their first conversation.

The wet-faced boy sat silent for a second, willing his tightened throat to speak. “I.. lost..”

The prince didn’t know what he meant, but he couldn’t just leave him there, crying alone under the table in the dark. “What’s in your hands?” “Cricket”, the boy mumbled, turning his attention to his small hands, feeling the insect shift against the skin of his palms in the small space.

“Do you want to take it outside?”

Yamaguchi nodded his head, following the prince out from under the table, making sure to keep his hands gently closed around the insect. Rubbing his watery eyes on his sleeves, Yamaguchi followed the taller boy through the darkness and out one of the castle’s many doors. Leaves rustled in the night air, and the wind gently brushed the tears out of the boy’s eyes and off his brown cheeks. The chirping of crickets reminded him why he was outside in the first place, when Tsukishima stopped in front of him. Looking around, Yamaguchi noticed they had come to a clearing in the forest, not far from the palace. He sat, crossing his legs on top of the dark dirt, and leaned forward to release the cricket into the grass before him. The prince quietly sat beside him, watching as a flash of green flew from the boy’s hands in the night, hurriedly hopping into the brush of the forest.

“How did you get lost?” Tsukishima drew circles into the loose soil in front of him.

“Your home is so big,” Yamaguchi answered truthfully, a little embarrassed, “so many doors”. “It’s okay, I spend more time out here than inside anyways.. Yamaguchi.” The name felt foreign coming from his mouth. “Call me Tadashi”, the smaller boy yawned; crying had drained all the energy his youth could give. “Call me Kei” the prince replied, feeling the weight of the boy’s head suddenly rest on his shoulder. 

“Kei..”

The next morning, a worried maid found them lying on the soft earth next to each other, sleeping soundly, surrounded by young spring flowers that had just begun to sprout.

  
  
  


\--

  
  
  


Over the next few weeks, the two boys were inseparable; where there was Tadashi there was Kei, and where there was Kei there was Tadashi. The prince gave a very non-linear tour of the castle over the span of several days in between his classes on the history of his people, etiquette, and the successes and mistakes of past rulers; Yamaguchi’s watching and learning from his father work; and their afternoon naps in the forest, from which they would come back with leaves in their hair, and somehow always missing at least one shoe between them. Tsukishima had never had someone his age to spend time with, someone to drag along as a partner-in-crime, to be an apologist for the two of them; and Yamaguchi had never had someone his age who stuck around whether he was quiet, excited, scared, worried, or tired, someone who let him comfortably follow close behind, yet always made sure that he knew he had a place beside them.

On the day of Tsukishima Akiteru’s birthday celebration, the two were unable to see each other in the hours leading up to the event. Yamaguchi joined his father in watching the installment of the statue of the older prince, and he felt a bit of pride knowing he helped his father in the small ways he could. He knew that a piece for the royal family was of too much importance for his father to allow him to experiment with, but knowing that one day one of his own pieces could join it in the palace filled him with a sense of youthful optimism and excitement. Meanwhile, the younger Tsukishima brother was fitted into what seemed like a million outfits before the Queen settled for the second one. The child-sized suit looked almost identical to all the others he had been forced to try on that morning, but, according to his mother, this one “accentuated his princely shoulders”, whatever that meant.

At around six in the evening, guests began to trickle in. High-profile kings and queens, princesses and princes arrived over the next two hours, some family friends attending to congratulate the prince, some from imperialistic kingdoms seeking connections with the heir to the throne, and some in a gray area between. Ever since their parents had begun planning the ball, the young prince had become increasingly aware of his older brother’s growing moodiness and rebellion, and locking himself in his room when he didn’t have the energy to fight. This all seemed to lead up to the party, during which the birthday boy was in a constant state of annoyance, frustration, and defeat mixed. Tsukishima didn’t understand why his brother was acting like this; all he knew was he just wanted to see Yamaguchi. 

After a couple hours of people telling him how much he had grown from the last time they had supposedly seen him—“when you were this small” they would gesture with their hand to a height around their knee—Tsukishima made his way between over-exaggerated ball gowns and shoes with far-too-long toe points looking for Yamaguchi. With his friend nowhere to be found, he quietly exited the ballroom and left out of the side of the main hall, stepping out into the cool night. He took the short walk to the familiar clearing in the woods, where he found his friend laying, young orange flowers having bloomed around him, almost as if he were their source of life. Tsukishima joined them.

“Kei”, Yamaguchi smiled, not breaking his gaze from the stars peeking through the evening sky above. The prince couldn’t remember a time the boy wasn’t beside him, eyes twinkling with stars; he was no longer sure if all of space was reflected in the boy’s eyes, or vise-versa. 

“When there’s too many people I don’t know,” Yamaguchi continued, the light which bounced off the slowly-rising moon dancing across his dark freckles and green-tinted hair, “I get nervous, so I’m really grateful that you showed me this place”.

“Do you want to dance?” 

Tsukishima had a fleeting moment of courage, and he found himself on his feet.

“What?”

The prince reached out his hand to the boy still lying on the earth, the shadows of the swaying tree branches above them softening his determined gaze.

“I don’t know how to.”

“I can teach you.” 

Yamaguchi grasped Tsukishima’s hand, and was pulled onto his feet. “We hold hands on this side”, the taller of the two began to explain, “and you put your other hand on my shoulder”. He gently moved Yamaguchi into position. Placing his hand awkwardly on the boy’s side, Tsukishima gave an attempt at creating a rhythm to shuffle to, repeating a sequence of “left, right, left”, trying to remember how his dance teacher had taught him to lead in their lessons. Naive without the knowledge of who they would become, eyes sparkling with childhood and possibility, neither of the boys were any good at dancing. Fate smiled down upon them (maybe with hope, maybe with pity), and let out a nervous breath, knowing the meaning of inevitability all too well; a weak gust of air tousled the boys’ hairs and blew past the back of their necks. They both ignored the chills of time passing, hoping they could stay like this forever, glimmering under the moonlight.

  
  
  


\--

  
  
  


All too soon, one of the palace maids found the two, quickly grabbing Tsukishima by the wrist and pulling him away from the other boy.

“What are you two doing?” She looked between them, a subtle anger in the furrow of her brows and the flash of her eyes, as if they had done something  _ wrong _ .

“I was teaching Tadashi to dance for our wedding”, the young Prince claimed innocently, annoyance apparent in his tone. The burning of her hand tight around his wrist had sparked a slowly growing fire of defiance within him.

“Yamaguchi, call him Yamaguchi”, the maid began to drag Tsukishima back towards the castle, 

“and you can’t get married”.

He didn’t know why she said that, but he knew that he hated the way that she stomped on the young flowers in the earth, leaving behind a trail of torn petals, and a single, torn Yamaguchi.

  
  
  


\--

  
  
  


The following noon, Yamaguchi’s father had set to packing the few necessities they had brought for their stay at the palace, and told his son that he could quickly say his goodbyes before they departed.

The boy slowly made his way to the now all-too-familiar clearing in the woods on the right side of the castle. He wasn’t sure if the prince would be there, since the last they had seen of each other was their “dance” together the night before, but if he were to be anywhere, it would be there.

“Kei..” 

Yamaguchi found Tsukishima standing in the middle of the clearing, back towards the castle and his head lowered in thought. He turned around, watching the shorter boy slowly walk towards him.

“We’re leaving soon.”

“I know.”

Neither of them knew how to say it.

“Are.. we really getting married?”

The Prince’s comment from the night before stuck with Yamaguchi all night, and up until this moment. They were only ten years old, but he had an innocent hope for the future ahead.

“I swear! I swear on.. on the moon!” Tsukishima blushed; his rush of confidence was fleeting, but he just hoped the other boy understood how much he meant what he had said.

Yamaguchi gave a soft smile; it was enough for him to hold onto until the day they met again.

  
  
  


\--

  
  
  


Tsukishima Kei was sixteen years old when he was reminded what it meant to be royalty.

“It’s all our fault!”

“No, he was just stupid. I can’t believe-”

“If we had just let him-”

“What? Let our son, the heir to the throne, run away with a-”

“Yes! Anything but let him die!”

Shouting, pleading, and crying filled the palace for weeks following the young prince’s birthday. Except, this day was no longer his birthday: September 27 was now the day that his brother, Tsukishima Akiteru, died.

The King and Queen argued for days on end over whether or not they could have prevented it; if they could have tightened security, checked his room earlier that morning, not constantly reminded him of the many suitors that had offered to accompany him on the throne.

But the truth was, Tsukishima Akiteru, the next in line to be King, had fallen in love with a Knight.

  
  
  


\--

  
  
  


Tsukishima Akiteru had fallen in love with Tenma Udai during one of the many parties the royal family held six years ago. They hit it off immediately, dancing in between formalities, pulling each other close enough that the beat of their hearts echoed off of one another, electricity running down hands, shoulders, and hips, everywhere they touched. Some dances they talked about everything and nothing under the moon, and others they danced in silence, just appreciating the way they fit into each other perfectly.

The King noticed. The next party they held, he told his son to not spend his time with the Knight.

“Meet other people. Maybe you will find a princess or prince you like.” There it was again: another push for the then-16-year-old to begin considering marriage.

Nevertheless, the heir found his way next to the man, on the balcony under the stars; holding hands as they made their way down the hall; eventually, on top of him, the music from the party faint through the walls of the bedroom, the two of them drunk on champagne and love.

Three years later, the heir received a letter.

“We both know… The King… I’m sorry…”

A tear hit the paper, spreading the ink around it, stretching for a sense of hope.

“I love you Akiteru.”

Tsukishima Akiteru never really liked parties again after that, or the King.

Another two years later, the kingdom of Karasuno declared war.

  
  
  


\--

  
  
  


“Him and that boy loved each other. If only we had let them-”

“He is the heir for christ’s sake! He can’t just pretend to be a knight and sneak into a camp just because some- some knight is dying-”

“He  _ was  _ the heir.”

Silence.

There was no arguing that. Tsukishima Akiteru  _ was _ .

  
  
  


\--

  
  
  


As the ruling family of the kingdom of Karasuno, the Tsukishimas held a highly publicized funeral for the prince; it was more for show than closure, seeing as it would take much longer than two weeks for the family to mourn. The streets were lined with people making a path to the royal burial grounds. The people of the kingdom loved Tsukishima Akiteru, and would continue to after his passing.

Following tradition, the Queen contacted the Yamaguchi family to request a statue of her son, one that could capture his beauty and selfless personality as it was placed in the hall along with all the others that had been made of past Tsukishimas fallen.

The prince wondered if this meant Tadashi would be coming back to the castle. He was old enough to be more involved in the business, but then again, his father might prefer to make the piece himself. Why was he even concerned which family member would be coming? He told himself it didn’t matter either way. He hadn’t left his room for days, and that wouldn’t change when they had company. Deep down, however, he knew he was really just waiting; waiting for someone to distract him from reality with stories and dreams of things that they both knew could never be, someone to gently wipe his tears away in silence when he ended up crying regardless.

Deep down, he knew he was just waiting for Tadashi.

It wasn’t until later that evening that he heard his father welcoming his guest inside. His voice was hard to hear through the space and door that separated Tsukishima from the outside world, but for once it wasn’t the yelling or silence that had taken turns filling the palace the past few months.

Tsukishima opened his bedroom door, deciding to take one and only one look at who had officially come to the castle. This was,  _ obviously _ , out of nothing more than a lack of anything better to do.

Leaning on the banister of the indoor balcony along the hallway directly outside of his bedroom, he peered down, his eyes automatically making their way to the sculptor. As servants carried in materials behind Yamaguchi and the King, the breeze from outside pushed his green-tinted hair, now longer than Tsukishima had imagined (not that he had been imagining how Tadashi had grown up to look), maybe even long enough to put in a small ponytail, away from his face, save for a few strands. Everything about him, really, was longer, more grown. Of course, he had nothing on the blonde in terms of height, but there was almost no trace left of the insecure boy he met when he was ten. Although he hadn’t actually changed much in any major way physically, he looked more peaceful, careful, but sure.

Even so, he still had the same bright galaxies in his eyes, and the same constellations of freckles scattered about his face. Tsukishima wondered what it was like to touch a star. Would it burn? Would he immediately melt, leaving behind the empty bedroom down the hall from his, the broken dishes and flower vases scattered around the castle at the end of every long day, the war? Is this how his brother felt when he boldly told their parents that he wanted to give up his title as heir? Is this how his brother felt when he held the feverish face of the man he loved, who lay in wait for death, wounded, seconds before the camp was attacked?

Tsukishima didn’t know how his brother felt. He didn’t know how he himself felt either.

He watched his father talk some more to Yamaguchi, receiving nothing more than the occasional nod. Although he wasn’t anywhere near as shy as before, he still wasn’t much of a talker. When the King turned around to lead Yamaguchi to his room, the boy paused for a moment. He looked up to the balcony on his left, surprising the prince and meeting his gaze through the strands of juniper hair that loosely fell along the side of his face. He offered him a warm smile, the same one the prince had fallen in love with six years ago in a clearing on the side of the castle, and gave a small wave before quickly following after the King.

Tsukishima remained frozen on the balcony, staring at the spot where Yamaguchi just was, his mind replaying what had just happened. His heart panicked in his chest, losing its rhythm as it quickened, and Fate observed with a similar uneasiness. Once he finally came back to and was able to will his feet to move, he rushed back into his room. Had Tadashi known he had been watching that whole time? Did this mean he remembered him? What if he was just being nice? 

Most importantly, why did he have to look so pretty?

  
  
  


\--

  
  
  


That night, Tsukishima laid in bed, his mind cluttered with a million thoughts and none all at once. He hadn’t had dinner; usually his mother would bring some to his room, but it seemed she had forgotten. It made sense though, she had a lot going on with her oldest son’s death and the seemingly never-ending war. He laid on his back, his stomach, his side; he buried himself in his blanket, threw it off, covered all of himself except for his left leg, but he couldn’t get comfortable. He got out of bed and mindlessly made his way out of his room. 

His hand touched cold metal, and he realized he was standing outside of a lit room, hand on the handle to slide it open. It was Tadashi’s work room.

Tadashi must have seen his shadow beneath the door already. He couldn’t just leave now. Or was he just overthinking it? Tadashi could have fallen asleep with the light on. But if he was awake and noticed him just  _ standing there _ , Tsukishima definitely looked like a creep now. Augh! 

The prince hesitantly slid the door open. Now how would he explain coming to the boy’s room when it was already dark outside? It was too late to go back now. He peered into the room as he slowly let the light out.

“Oh. I was waiting for you.” Tadashi looked up from the large sheet of paper in front of him to smile at the prince. “I noticed that you didn’t eat dinner, so I asked for an extra plate for you. I figured you would be coming by sooner or later.” He motioned to the other side of the room, where a plate of food sat on a small wooden table. “It’s cold by now. I can go see if there’s any warm food left in the-”

“No, it’s fine,” Tsukishima made his way over to where Yamaguchi sat, “I’m not hungry anyway”.

Yamaguchi sat on a wooden stool, slightly leaning forward as he sketched onto the paper resting on an easel. Tsukishima sat on the ground and leaned against the nearby wall. He was somewhat behind the sculptor, but angled himself so that he could see what he was working on.

The silence persisted, but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

“It really looks like him”, Tsukishima finally said. He watched as the boy lightly erased some of the shading from the large face on the right side of the paper to raise its cheekbones. To the left of the face, he could make out a rough sketch of a body, in a humble yet powerful pose, a royal mantle flowing from its wide shoulders.

He wanted to tell the boy that his depiction of his brother was coming out great. He wanted to ask why he had said he had been waiting, and why he had gotten food for him when everyone else, including himself, had forgotten. He wanted to ask if he remembered when they were ten, when he had brought him to the clearing on the side of the castle. But the prince felt his eyelids growing heavy, the drawing of his late brother growing blurry as he put more of his weight on the wall behind him.

After a few minutes of nothing more than the soft sound of graphite on paper, Yamaguchi turned around to find the prince asleep, his breaths slow and steady. He smiled, barely stopping himself from touching his fair face and light blonde hair in fear of rubbing dark residue onto it. 

“Goodnight Kei.”

  
  
  


\--

  
  
  


It was a little after nine in the morning when Tsukishima woke up. He stirred under a warm blanket, his vision blurry without his glasses; this was the first night in a while that he had managed more than two hours of sleep. Lazily fumbling around, he began to recall the night before, memories of making his way to Tadashi’s room and falling asleep on the floor fuzzy. The only thing that he couldn’t remember was how he had gotten into this bed.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Tsukishima slowly stood up, catching his fingers in his bed head as he ran his hands through his hair. He flinched, expecting his feet to meet the cold tile floor of the castle, but looked down when he felt something soft instead. A thick comforter messily lay on the ground beside the bed, warm, as if someone had just been laying on it.

“Akiteru?” The Prince rubbed his eyes from behind his glasses. Maybe his brother knew why he woke up in a bed that wasn’t his own.

Following the weird smell coming from the adjoining room, he shuffled into the open doorway. On the other side of the small space stood Tadashi, bent over a table, mixing water with some white flour-looking powder. Next to him stood sketches of his brother.

That’s right. Akiteru was gone.

“Oh, you’re up!” The sculptor’s voice pulled Tsukishima back from the familiar, numb feeling that had begun to overtake him for a moment.

“Yeah.. whose bed did I sleep in last night?”

Yamaguchi moved away from the table toward the en suite bathroom, keeping his hands slightly raised to avoid any of the plaster on them from spilling. “Oh, mine. Do you want to go have breakfast? You should really start eating better, and if you wait any longer it’s going to be lunch-”

The boy trailed on as he moved around the room, getting ready to head to the kitchen. Tsukishima held on to the peaceful voice, barely staying above the murky waters of numbness.

  
  
  


\--

  
  
  


“Maybe breakfast outside wasn’t the best idea.”

Despite the chilly air, Tsukishima’s tea persisted, warming his hands as he wrapped them around the mug. Following Tadashi into the forest beside the castle, uncertainties of the boy’s feelings made their way back into the foreground of his thoughts. Did he remember the clearing from when they were younger? Or was he just hoping there would be somewhere for them to settle in? If he did remember, does this mean he remembered how cluelessly bold young Tsukishima had been?

“It’s okay, I like the winter.” Tsukishima watched Tadashi sit and place their breakfast, toasted egg sandwiches with fruit on the side, on the ground beside him. “It’s been awhile since I’ve been out here. I mean, since my brother… Anyways, that’s why I’m glad you brought me out here.” 

The prince looked up, now face to face with the boy. For a moment, he thought Tadashi was sunburnt. Then he realized it was winter. 

“Oh.. that was.. very honest.”

When Tsukishima realized how forward he had been, he internally groaned.

A few minutes passed in the cool breeze; trees swayed and hearts calmed. Fate was at peace, and cautiously let itself take its first breath in a while.

“You know, I never knew your brother that well, but I could tell he was a very loving person. Everyone could.”

The tea had cooled, but the way it slightly burnt was a part of its charm.

“Yeah well, I guess it’s what got him killed, wasn’t it?”

The Prince quickly looked up to apologize, but paused when he saw Tadashi’s face. The boy was smiling, looking somewhere into the distance. But he didn’t seem happy. 

“That’s the one thing you clearly shared: you both love blindly, without caution or fear.” The sculptor met Tsukishima’s eyes. “I don’t know if you’re stupid or brave, Kei.”

  
  
  


\--

  
  
  


Two months passed of Tsukishima never leaving the sculptor’s side (oh how the roles had reversed), falling asleep in the work room, waking up in the guest bed, convincing him to stop sleeping on the floor, and Yamaguchi being glad to always wake up first to save himself the embarrassment of the prince seeing the intimate positions they would wake up in each morning.

Being stuck inside because of a snowstorm would usually be hell for Kei, but when the person you’ve been pining for for 7 years is stuck inside with you, it’s actually not that bad. While they never directly talked about it, the weeks of playing with Tadashi’s hair in the mornings, keeping Tadashi warm at night, and learning how to come to terms with his brother’s death in between brought the prince to one conclusion: he wasn’t the only one in love.

Now hyper-aware of his feelings, Kei felt his face burning as he sat on a tree stump in the clearing next to the other boy. The snow had begun to clear, but it was still the middle of winter.

“I’ve always loved the snow.” He focused on gathering the crystals in his mittens, but they kept melting too fast.

“Too bad you can never keep them,” Tadashi chuckled, warming the prince’s heart.

The snow continued to fall with a caution unknown to young lovers.

“Do you remember when we were younger? When I said I swore on the moon?”

Tadashi gave a small smile.

“Ah, about that-”

“Prince Tsukishima!”

The boys turned to see a maid rush through the snowy trees, a smile spread wide across her face. “Come! The King and Queen have splendid news to share!”

She grabbed him by the forearm, pulling him away from whatever Tadashi was about to say. For a moment, he was ten years old again. Once again, he was leaving Tadashi behind.

  
  
  


\--

  
  
  


The room was filled with a suffocating silence when the prince walked in.

“Hey sweetheart,” the Queen looked up, lightly dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “Can you believe it? The war is finally over.” 

Kei looked at his father, who simply nodded in confirmation. “Really?”

He knew only a fraction of the toll the war had taken on his parents, and the kingdom as a whole. Maybe now they could properly mourn the death of their son. Maybe now things would go back to normal.

“The kingdom of Nekoma has requested a… demonstration of peace.” The King finally spoke.

“A what? Did we not win the war?”

Kei got his answer with the bow of his parents' heads.

“Do you remember their heir, Prince Kuroo Tetsurou?”

The Queen stood from her throne, approaching her son as she softly spoke.

“He has asked for your hand in marriage.”

She could see her son’s heart breaking with each word, but the damage had already been done.

“Wait-”

“He should arrive later this evening for dinner. You will move to his kingdom and accompany him to the throne, and once your father passes, Karasuno will join Nekoma under King Kuroo’s rule.”

Kei hadn’t realized he was crying until the Queen moved to wipe his tears. He shoved her away, probably too harshly, but the pain she felt was nowhere near his. If life was never fair to him, how could they expect him to be fair to others?

“Just shut up.”

The Queen looked to her husband for help. He looked away.

“Kei-”

“I said shut up!”

Finally they stopped talking. So why did he feel his heart continue to be pierced?

There had to be a way out of this. Kei paced back and forth, pushing his glasses up as he tried to focus. Maybe he could talk to Kuroo. They had gotten along fairly well at a few of his parents’ parties. No, if Kuroo cared about how Kei felt, he would have found a way to ask before making demands. Maybe- no, he couldn’t make the kingdom go to war again. They had already lost once, morale and supplies were down, and he had no authority to declare war. The only option was for the two teenagers to run away. It shouldn’t be that hard, right? His brother had done it before-

“Tsukishima Kei!”

The King rose from his throne, frustration fiery in his eyes.

“No!”

Kei had never been much of a rebel, but they had crossed the line.

He ran out of the room, past the maids, away from his mother’s calls after him, and out of the side door to the clearing. He hadn’t been gone too long, right? He would find Tadashi waiting for him, and Tadashi would understand. That’s right, Tadashi always knew exactly where to be and what to do. Kei stomped his way through the snow, and into the clearing to find

no one.

Maybe Tadashi was waiting in his room. Maybe he had to use the restroom. Maybe-

“My prince…”

He could barely make out the maid through his blurry vision.

“Where?”

“Yamaguchi is… leaving the castle, your highness.”

No.

No.

No. No!

No!

Kei tripped through the snows, his hands catching his fall in the burning-cold crystals. With wet clothes clinging to his shaking body, the prince stumbled through the palace to the front entrance, eyes heavy with tears.

He hit a wall. He had to keep going, he had to chase after Tadashi, but the wall was holding him.

“Tsukishima?”

It’s Kuroo. Kei’s… fiance.

The man brushed his eyes gently with his thumb. “There’s snow on your eyelashes. What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Kei wanted to stop and let him finish. Kuroo is warm, caring, but from just over his shoulder, he sees someone more important.

“Tadashi!”

His whole body was heavy, but he fought the urge to let gravity take him. He knew something was wrong. Tadashi will come back and comfort him. Tadashi will tell him that everything is going to be okay.

The boy, the boy with all of the stars in his eyes, all of the galaxies on his cheeks and nose, all of the warmth in his heart, all of his features burned into the memory of one blonde prince, turns around. Despite all of his beauty, and because all of his love, the boy wore his pain on his face and in his voice.

“Congratulations on your engagement. I wish you happiness and health, Prince Tsukishima.”

The little strength in the blonde’s legs gave way, his fiance gathering him into his arms.

Just for a moment, Tadashi paused as he walked away, leaving Kei a last glimmer of hope.

“Oh and, never swear by the moon.”

  
  
  


\--

  
  
  


“I know I already told you, but you look beautiful.”

The ride leaving the palace was smoother than Tsukishima had expected. After the extravagant wedding held at his palace, the newly-weds had boarded a carriage adorned with the signature red roses of Nekoma, and began their route through Karasuno to the neighboring kingdom, where King Kuroo would officially assume the throne with Queen Tsukishima Kei by his side. 

Warmed by the summer breeze and bright sun, Tsukishima felt suffocated in his constricting, white suit, the delicate lace veil in his hair creating an itchy sensation on his head.

“Thanks.”

It was a little over half a year since he had seen Tadashi.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had visited the main village of his own kingdom. Actually, he could; he just didn’t want to. 

In the winter that Yamaguchi had stayed at the castle, before the snowstorm shut them in, the young sculptor had surprised him one afternoon with a secret plan. “Everyone will be too busy with dinner, and I worked extra hard last night to get ahead on my work. We can dress you like a village person, and we can go into town!” Hidden under layers of jackets and mittens and scarves, they blended in perfectly. The outdoor markets and food stalls smelled weird, in a good way. “Sorry about that, he just got his first pay as a… potter’s apprentice” Tadashi had bluffed apologetically to a shopkeep when the prince offered way too many coins for a kabob. Tadashi patiently taught him how to skip rocks across the river, the rules of tag and hopscotch, and how messy chalk could truly be.

As they passed through all the places tinted by his memories with Tadashi, Tsukishima felt a warm hand softly squeeze around his own.

Kuroo, his husband, observed him in concern. “Are you okay?”

He reached over with his free hand, and tucked an orange camellia into Tsukishima’s blonde curls, behind his ear.

“Your mother told me that your family has always requested the same line of sculptors to create pieces for occasions, but when I asked around, it seemed they were no longer in business.”

The soon-to-be-Queen sucked in a sharp breath.

“I’m sorry, I wanted you to feel more at home, but apparently no one has even seen the sculptor leave his house in months.”

They were nearing the border, and nearing Tsukishima’s new life. He now knew what it truly meant to be royalty.

His husband was loving, and reliable. He would have to let go of what could have been one day.

“Yeah,” Tsukishima laced his fingers with the king’s, “I think I’ll be okay”.

  
  
  


\--

  
  
  


“Aaaughh!”

It had been five days since Yamaguchi had eaten, drowning his hunger in occasional sips of water.

“It’s not him… It’s not him!”

The sculptor stared at the tall piece of stone he had been working on for months. 

It stared back.

“Why isn’t it him?!”

Flesh and rock clashed in a slash of crimson; hopes and a cry of pain broke in the dim, dirtied room. 

Yamaguchi crumpled to the floor, alone, like always.

“That’s right, I already had him before. I’m being too greedy, aren’t I?”

  
  
  


\--

  
  
  


That winter, it didn’t snow.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> uhhh if you made it this far THANK YOU AND IM SO SORRY IT DIDNT COME OUT HOW I HAD PICTURED IT AT THE BEGINNING OF 2020 UHM ;;;;; I hope at least a little bit of it made you smile (my favorite parts to write were me simping over yams through tsukki,,,, it felt very obvious lol) uH anyway if u wanna check out [my twitter](https://twitter.com/moonsuoh) ,, I came back after college application season hehe,, hAve a good day !!


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